Heart's Not There
A/N: YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. This story will be way darker than my other stories I have floating around this site. If you are not ok with slash, with some noncon and torture aspects, please turn away now. But for the more adventurous readers, this is an alternate season four storyline. Other characters will be joining in later chapters, so don't think this is going to remain a dungeon porn story, there is a bigger picture involved that will be slowly revealed!
Chapter One: To Have and to Hold
When Jackson's adopted parents told him they were moving to London, he couldn't have been more thrilled. Considering everything that had happened to him over the past couple months, he was more than ready for a change of pace. Being a new werewolf in London would be a challenge for him, but he had finally achieved what he had always wanted: the most competitive edge he could have asked for. He knew that whatever challenges awaited him in this new country he could tackle head on, and he was ready for it.
What he didn't expect was to be taken the night before he was to join his parents. They had gone up a week before to start unpacking and get the house in order.
Spring's chill still lingered in the early summer air. The full moon had been a few nights before – another reason why he had wanted to stay behind. The last thing he wanted was to encounter a full moon in a landscape he hadn't had proper time to fully explore. He had just left Lydia's house, about to head over to Danny's, where he was staying since his house sat empty – not to mention sold to another family already.
Half way there he noticed a car pass by. The reason it stood out as odd was he was certain it had passed him by, not once, but two times in the past five minutes. With tinted windows, there was no way to see who drove, but the car looked familiar, although he couldn't quite place it.
The car came around for a fourth pass and Jackson was ready for it. He stepped out into the road and turned to face the driver. The vehicle eased to a stop and just sat there, idling.
Jackson waited for anything to happen, but nothing did for a few still moments. Clenching his hand into a fist, he took a step towards the car, which promptly shot a few feet in reverse.
"Oh come on, what is this about?" Jackson asked quietly.
The car backed up a little more, and for a second Jackson hoped it would find a suitable driveway and turn around, never to be seen again. Jackson's shoulders relaxed and he had time to breathe out a small sigh of relief before the car shifted gears and came speeding at him.
He barely had time to acknowledge what was happening, much less make any move to get out of the way. The front bumper hit him just below the knees, and his head slammed against the windshield, sending cracks along the glass. He bounced off the top of the car before crashing to the ground in a pile of limbs.
Pain shook through his body and his vision blurred. He faintly registered that the car had pulled to a stop and the driver's side door opened. Footsteps padded across the pavement, and a shadow fell across the boy.
The other person knelt down, his face entering Jackson's field of vision. Like his car, the man himself looked very familiar to the teen, but he still had no idea how he knew this man.
Jackson tried to move despite the agony, and the man drove a knee into his side. "Now, now, little wolfie," he said. "We've only just begun to play."
He leaned over Jackson, and with one hand took his jaw, wrenching his head upward. The man mashed his lips against Jackson's, licking at the small trail of blood leaking out the left side. Jackson wanted to pull away but found himself frozen. A random thought shot through his head: if only Danny could have seen this, he would have shit himself.
When the man pulled back, Jackson spit in his face. "What the fuck?"
The man wiped at his cheek, then punched Jackson in the throat. "You will learn to speak when you are spoken to. What plans I have for you…"
He roughly grabbed Jackson and began dragging him to the car. This was a task he seemed to perform with relative ease, which startled Jackson. Something was definitely off about this guy, and by that he meant that there was something inhuman about him. He thought of the cell phone in his pocket, and wondered if it had made it through the crash unharmed. Another part of him couldn't understand how, or why, this was happening to him.
"Please, stop-"
His head rocked back with another punch. "What the hell did I just say, boy? You certainly have a lot to learn. And I can't wait to teach you."
The rear door opened, and Jackson was roughly thrown headfirst into it. His body erupted in a fresh wave of pain, and his vision dimmed. He felt that he was going to pass out, and that terrified him. There was no telling what this man had in store for him.
He started the car and began swiftly driving away. "Now, don't think about trying anything." He held up a gun, and once again Jackson could have sworn he'd seen it before.
Then something clicked into place. That gun was a standard issue for the Beacon Hills Police Department. The car, he realized, he had seen parked outside the Sherriff's office. Did that mean that the man who had just kidnapped him was a fucking cop? Jackson couldn't begin to comprehend what that might mean.
"Who are you?" Jackson asked, apparently not listening, as always.
"Shut the fuck up!" The man growled. "But I guess you should know. My name is Kyle Parrish, but you can call me Deputy. I'm the newest addition to your wonderful city's police force." He grinned in the rearview mirror, and it chilled Jackson to the bone.
Jackson was about to ask another question but Parrish anticipated that and pistol whipped him, his eyes never leaving the road. "No more questions."
They drove for a long enough time that Jackson figured they had to have left Beacon Hills. Parrish had the radio tuned to some country station, but kept the volume low, so the ride was mostly silent, punctuated only by the louder notes of music drifting from the speakers. Jackson already could feel himself beginning to heal, and just hoped this ride lasted long enough for him to take a stand when he exited the vehicle.
Why was this happening to him? His mind raced, trying to process the last twenty minutes. Parrish obviously knew what he was, and where he was going to be, but he had no idea how. He was new in town, and that had to mean something. But Jackson kept coming to a loss, that there was no logical explanation for this. All the while his body burned as it began healing. Since his resurrection, he had not encountered pain such as this, and it made it harder for him to think.
The cell phone. He still hadn't gotten a chance to check it yet, but with Parrish's eyes flickering to the rearview mirror, which he had tilted down so he could keep an eye on his prize, he didn't want to risk bringing attention to it. On the other hand, he risked the chance that wherever Parrish was taking him, there might not be any reception.
The car pulled to a stop and Jackson was able to look out the window. He saw a very generic looking cabin and nothing else save for a bunch of trees.
Parrish got out and walked around to the trunk. He rummaged around in there for a minute, which Jackson took to ready himself for when the back door opened. The problem with that was he had no idea which door Parrish would open, so he didn't know how to position himself.
Unfortunately for him, Parrish opened the driver's side door again, leaned across the center console, and electrocuted him with some sort of homemade device.
He lost consciousness.
When Jackson woke up, he found his body healed. That told him he had been out for a long time, perhaps even a day. His hands were bound above his head in thick, iron chains. The room was mostly bare and unfinished. Dirt covered the floor and with the lack of windows, he had to be in a basement.
His throat was dry, but at least he was still alive. For the time being, anyway.
A door he couldn't see creaked open and he heard heavy footsteps on stairs. As they grew closer Jackson found himself drawing in on himself. He wanted to shy away from this encounter.
"Hey there," Parrish called, coming around a corner. He brought with him a glass of water. He tipped it to Jackson's lips and said, "I'll allow you something to say, if you'd like to take the chance."
"People will come looking for me," he said, his voice ragged.
"I'm assuming as much, but where exactly are they going to be looking?" the deputy sat back, the right side of his lips jerking up in a crooked smile. "You see, you checked into the airport on time today, ready to take your flight. Anyone who's looking for you will probably start on the wrong continent, my boy."
Jackson just stared at him, unbelieving.
"So we're going to have plenty of time," he said, taking one finger and trailing it over the exposed flesh on Jackson's torso, through the holes in his shredded shirt.
Wanting to ask for what, Jackson steeled himself. Whatever this maniac wanted, he was certain it would be revealed in time. After all, time was all he had now.
What confused him was that Parrish now seemed to be almost gentle with him. In the ten minutes of the attack, he had been brutal several times. In the five minutes since he crept down those stairs, the only contact they had was this caress, and while Jackson's body wasn't responding the way he assumed Parrish wanted, this was far superior than fists and knees.
Parrish gave him another drink from the cup. This time Jackson thought he tasted something in it this time, but he was so thirsty he decided to worry about that later.
"Yeah, drink up."
Jackson suddenly wanted to refuse, to tell him that he tasted whatever it was spiked with. He wanted to scream, to rage against his chains, but he felt himself almost deflating.
"What…?" he mumbled, not caring whether or not Parrish retaliated.
"It's just a little concoction. Water with Viagra and ketamine," now he was smiling fully. If the situation was different, Jackson thought his kidnapper might look a little like the world's cutest puppy. But he was just alarmed.
"I think it's starting to take effect, so we're going to play a little game of trust." Parrish took out a set of keys from his pocket and carefully picked through them, searching for the correct one. "Would you like to come out and play?"
He slid the key into the lock and Jackson's arms fell painfully to his side. He had lost all control over his body, and would have slumped to the ground if the deputy hadn't wrapped an arm around him and pulled their bodies together. Parrish tore off what remained of the wolf's clothing, tossing it unceremoniously to the side. He carefully lowered Jackson to the floor, then went to work shedding his own uniform. Jackson noticed he took the time to painstakingly fold the fabric.
Jackson began blacking out, then jumping back to reality. The next thirty minutes were filled with shooting pain and immense pleasure. He was vaguely aware of Parrish's cock thrusting inside of him, and it filled him with horror. One time, he swam awake to find the deputy's mouth firmly on his member. He still felt terrified, but it was the irrational fear that this was a man going to town on his body instead of general terror at the surrounding circumstances.
Blacking out again, when he came to Parrish was sitting in a crouched position maybe six inches away from his face. He leaned in and kissed him again. Jackson shook beneath him, realizing that he once again was bound in the chains.
"That was fun," he said. "We're going to have a blast, you and I."
Jackson was at a complete loss for words. His eyes wouldn't focus on anything – Parrish was a fuzzy shape that began backing away. He noticed that he was still naked.
"My clothes…" he said.
"Those, my dear, you'll have to earn back. We have a long way to go, you see. Such plans I have for you, but in order to get what I need, I'm going to have to break you first. Then we'll start putting the pieces back together. But for now, I have to get back to work, keeping the peace in Beacon Hills," he said with a laugh.
He trudged back up the stairs. Jackson heard the door slam shut, and he was left in the darkness. He hoped, prayed, that the members of his pack had the power to sort of sense him out, or at least know that he was in major trouble. Something told him packs didn't work like that, but it seemed as though it was his only hope now.